A thrilling encounter
by snapeophil
Summary: It was intuition that brought Laurel Lance to Thea Queen s loft that evening. She did not have any tangible evidence that he was there, but her Daddy had taught her to believe in her instincts and every fiber of her being was set on edge, her blood pulsing rapidly through her veins.


**AN:**

 **First of all, SPOILER alert for everyone who hasn´t seen the first 3 episodes of Arrow season 3! (btw, I am only half-way through, so please no spoilers for me about seasons mid 3 - 5 ;-))**

 **I know, I know, I should really be finishing the next chapter of my HP fanfic „A wizard´s trial", but I can´t help it, this smutty little piece just popped into my head watching "Arrow" season 3 last weekend. And it just begged to be written and who am I to deny my muse now that she´s back and all? ;-) Malcolm Merlyn deserves a bad guy-sexy-one-shot and John Barrowman is brill in this role, especially, because Merlyn "slightly" differs from his real life persona, I guess ;-)**

 **So, fluffy little something for you Arrow-fans and everyone else (whether you want it or not) *lol* I haven´t read any other fanfics for this show so far, so please note that I don´t mean to "steal" any plotline should something like this already exist.**

 **As my brilliant beta is already so very generous with her time beta-ing my HP works this piece will go out un-betaed. It´s just fun, anyway… so please note that English is not my first language, but rather the sandbox I love to play in (though usually in BE).**

 **Small warning, this is not exactly the pink hearts and happy bubbles smut, there´ll be mentioning of violence (both verbally and bodily) and an ambiguously consenting sexual encounter with a slight Sub/dom/S/M touch to it. A "I hate him but I still want him" kind of story. Also, there are several mentions of the f-word. You´ve been warned, so no flames, please. If you don´t like this kind of story, don´t read, ´k?**

 **Still, a bit of character development has secretly sneaked in, too.**

 **Well, off we go!**

 **A thrilling encounter**

 _(Set after Sara´s death, Laurel still suspects Malcolm Merlyn as the culprit, even if Oliver has already told her, that he believes Merlyn to be 'innocent' *lol* )_

It was intuition that brought Laurel Lance to Thea Queen´s loft that evening. She did not have any tangible evidence that _he_ was there, but her Daddy had taught her to believe in her instincts and every fiber of her being was set on edge, her blood pulsing rapidly through her veins. The need of release of the pent-up rage and frustration over their failure to capture her sister´s murderer made her hands shake as she bent down to wrestle with the lock.

A soft click announced her success and she cautiously opened the door and slid inside. She had never been in Thea´s loft before. Despite her reservations she found herself impressed by its size and the beautiful view over Starling city. Narrowing her eyes she silently closed the door and slowly stepped further into the room. In her right hand she could feel the reassuring weight of her gun. She was no fool. She was not taking the risk of potentially facing an assassin with bare hands. She was well aware that she might not stand a chance against that monster, even with her gun, but she wanted him to feel the pain she felt, to feel the utter despair and helpless rage she had had to endure over the last few days. If she had the opportunity she would not hesitate to pull the trigger.

Gun at the ready she stepped around the black sofas and into the middle of the room, her eyes searching for any movement. The lights of the city below bathed the room into an eerily shadowed twilight. Laurel did not know what she had expected to find, but something told her that Oliver´s sister was not as unknowing as she made herself out to be. Thea Queen knew something about Malcolm Merlyn and she would find out what it was. Thea was currently planning the great re-opening of her nightclub, staying there till late in the night and that offered Laurel the perfect opportunity to take a quick look around.

Checking her surroundings again she finally lowered her gun and tugged it into the waistband of her training gear. Hitting the sand sack had not been enough for her tonight and so she had decided coming here on a spur. Since she never left home without her gun in her handbag she had had it ready. Her trainers made little to no noise as she walked towards the right side where Thea´s desk was situated in front of the large windows. She would start her search there. Her black "Wildcat"- hoody still distinctly smelt of the man who had given it to her and she found strength in the thought that he was somehow with her. Oliver had let her down, refusing to teach her how to fight. _Ted_ never had.

Laurel started to rifle through the papers on the desk when the head lights suddenly flared into life and a cold, precise voice cut the silence.

"May I help you, Miss Lance?"

She whipped around, gun defensively lifted before her.

"You!"

Malcolm Merlyn was leaning casually against the great dining table, arms akimbo and smirking at her predatorily. He seemed to be completely at ease even with her gun pointing at his chest. What unsettled her further was that he had clearly just emerged from the shower as his dark hair was still wet and he was clad in black pajama trousers and a dark-blue bath robe that left very little to the imagination. He wore neither socks nor shoes.

Laurel´s breathing accelerated, even though she tried to conceal it. She lifted her chin and tried to steady her hands as good as she could. The dimple in his chin became even more pronounced when he cocked his head and smiled at her.

"Really, Miss Lance, is this proper behavior for a prosecuting attorney? Breaking into lofts and pointing guns at innocent, and may I add, unarmed men?"

"Oh please, Mr. Malcolm, we both know that you are far from innocent. You have killed hundreds of people through your act of terror alone. Heaven knows how many others have died because of you."

Keeping her gun trained on him she cautiously stepped closer, her eyes never leaving his face.

"An act of terror? I don´t think I´d call it that."

"What do you call it then, Mr. Merlyn?"

"Oh, please, Laurel, call me Malcolm. We were family, as good as, weren´t we?"

He winked.

Rage flooded her veins. Without thinking she closed the distance between them, the muzzle of her gun boring into his temple, her left hand at his throat.

"Don´t you dare speak of Tommy to me, you bastard. It´s your fault he´s dead, it´s all your fault. "

He didn´t move a single muscle, just kept on watching her. His blue eyes were cold and merciless. Even with her threatening his life he exuded an aura of invincibility and arrogance.

He blinked, slowly.

Laurel tightened the grip on his throat and released the safety catch.

 _Click._

"Tommy has always known you for what you truly are, and yet he tried so hard to make you proud. And how did you repay him?"

"I offered him a place at my side, unfortunately, he declined."

She could feel his voice vibrating against her fingers and the urge to throttle him became nearly uncontainable.

"What choice did he have? You´re a psychopath, and he, he was –"

"Weak."

She pushed him against the table, her smaller frame pressed tightly against him, her left hand still around his throat and the right forcing the gun against his head. Calmly he lowered his arms and gripped the edge of the table, his eyes never leaving hers. In her fury Laurel didn´t realize how out of character his submissive behavior was.

"He was a good man and a loyal man and a brave man, everything _you_ will never be."

Something changed in his eyes then. If possible, they became even more predatory and dark.

"And still he didn´t suffice, did he, Laurel?"

"What?"

"You saw it, too, didn´t you?"

"I loved him."

"Certainly."

"I loved him, and you won´t make me say otherwise."

"You _loved_ him."

"Yes."

"But you didn´t _need_ him."

"What the –"

"You didn´t _crave_ him."

"Shut up!"

"Because you, Laurel Lance, only covet fear."

His voice had dropped to a smooth, menacing whisper and Laurel felt shivers run all over her body. His words hit her like bullets, but she would not give in.

"You´re wrong."

"Is that so? Why did you work for the City Necessary Resources Initiative in the Glades?"

"I wanted to help, but of course, _you_ wouldn´t understand that."

"Lies. You were seeking the thrill of it, the danger of facing the cruelest and vilest of men."

"No."

"Yes. And after you made Tommy leave you –"

"I never did that, you manipulative shit, he left me."

"Because you showed him, that he´d never be able to keep you."

"That´s not –"

"And after that, who was it that caught your interest? Sebastian Blood, murderer and sociopath."

"I caught on to him first. I suspected him first."

"Yes, because you feel danger like few others do."

"We fought him. For Tommy and the city."

"Really? Were you truly that sad about Tommy´s death? No, I don´t think so."

"I was completely devastated. I, I started to consume tons of pills and drank so much that I lost my job."

"Yes, but that wasn´t because of your loss. It was guilt, wasn´t it?"

He subtly tensed against her. He leaned closer, her hand slack against his throat.

"Oh, not the guilt about being in the Glades when you weren´t supposed to be. You were ashamed, because you were relieved that he was dead. You drank, because you realized that he would _never_ have satisfied you and that you would have thoroughly broken his heart over and over again."

"You fucking monster!"

 _Bang!_

The bullet hit the wall next to the stairs and Laurel´s upper body crashed face-down onto the table. She couldn´t breathe. Why couldn´t she breathe? She tried to move her hands. They were being twisted behind her back. She struggled futilely, bumping against something behind her. And then the air was cut off completely and stars danced before her eyes, only to fade to black nothingness.

She was going to die. She would have laughed, if she had been able to. The sheer irony of it. Laurel Lance, killed by her dead ex-boyfriend´s father in the loft of her living ex-boyfriend´s sister, who also happened to be the former ex-boyfriend´s sister, because the dead boyfriend´s father had slept with the living ex-boyfriend´s mother before killing living ex-boyfriend´s father, while trying to take revenge for the death of her own sister. Normally, this only worked out on TV. Even through the haze she registered the smell. He smelt of freshly showered man and expensive cologne. She was certain that murderers were not meant to smell so alluring.

And then the pressure on her throat lessened and she could breathe again. Gasping she tried to straighten up, but immediately a solid body pushed her against the table and a strong hand pressed down on her neck. She was effectively trapped between Sara´s murderer and the cold wood of the table. She should have been afraid. But she was not.

Instead she was keenly aware. Aware of the way her left cheekbone ached from the impact, aware of the way her breasts were mashed against the cool surface and aware of the man behind her.

"Release me, you bastard."

"That is precisely what I plan to do, Laurel. I will offer you release."

"By killing me?"

"Not, if it´s not necessary."

She pushed against him, trying to find leverage against the table.

"Ah, ah, ah. No."

"Fuck you, Merlyn."

He leaned forward, his body in line with hers, his breath grazing her ear. The heat of his body seeped through the thick material of her hoody. He consciously pushed his hips into her bum, making her freeze in shock. Only the thin layers of his pajama trousers and her sweatpants lay between them.

"Again, that is precisely what I intend to do."

 _Oh gods!_

"You, you are going to, to rape me?"

At that thought her bravado left her and she felt herself curiously let down. She would have never thought him capable of raping a woman, as stupid as that sounded. He was a killer, yes, but - .

He took a small step back, moving his hips away from hers.

"I would never do something so distasteful. I am a killer, not a sadist."

Despite the questionable assessment concerning moral standards, Laurel found that she believed him. Her body marginally relaxed without conscious thought.

"Very good, Laurel."

His voice washed over her like a poisonous fume. She mentally shook her head. What on earth was happening to her? This was Malcolm Merlyn, for God´s sake.

"I have always admired your strength and I can tell we are kindred souls. That is why I want to help you with your suffering."

"No, I am nothing like you. Let me up."

"You wouldn´t do anything to save the people you love? You have never craved revenge or been enthralled to the call of your darker side? You have never felt burdened by the rules society has laid upon you? Felt helpless and furious and limited?"

Goosebumps were spreading all over her skin. Her soul screamed from being ripped apart and still, still she felt understood in a way that she never had before. God, she was such a failure, such an embarrassment to her family. She wanted to die. Right then she wished he had never let go of her windpipe, but instead ended her misery then and there. She could not let him get to her like this.

"You killed Sara. You are responsible for my suffering. Don´t tell me you want to help me."

It did not escape her notice that her voice was very small and fragile, like that of a hurt child. He sighed. Then his right hand left her neck and she could hear him slipping free the belt of his bath robe.

"What are you doing?"

"Shhhh."

He slid the smooth material around her wrists and tied them tightly. The loose end was wound around her neck.

"Straighten up, and please, do not try to fight. I do not want to hurt you."

She snorted bitterly.

"Such a saint you are."

But she obeyed. He tugged on her braid slightly, showing her that he wanted her to bend her head backwards a bit. Once again she followed his unspoken command and a part of her felt shamefully at peace with it. He added a second loop of the silky material around her neck and tied the end to her bound hands. She was effectively trapped. If she struggled too much, she cut off her own oxygen. He tapped her on the shoulder in a strangely polite gesture.

"Wait here for a moment."

He walked away from her and the lights slowly dimmed down to admit the now welcome twilight back into the room. She blinked several times until her eyes had adapted to the semi-darkness. When she opened them again, he was standing right before her. She swallowed.

The bath robe now fell open at the front and she could not help looking at his broad and muscled chest before quickly glancing away. She felt out of her comfort zone, to say the least. And yet, she had not even tried to move. She looked up again, her eyes meeting his. Oh, yes, this man was far more dangerous than she had anticipated. Tommy had told her over and over again how manipulative and destructive he was. The problem was, that he was also brilliant and that he had laid bare her darkest fears and desires with only a few sentences and Laurel subconsciously understood that this was what she had always been looking for. He must have seen it in her eyes, because he smiled at her, slowly and indulgently.

It was then she realized that she hated him. She hated him as much as she hated the part of her soul that had so quickly started to crave him without restraint. Tears were beginning to shine in her eyes. It was too much, too much. How could she live with such antagonizing impulses inside of her? Who was she, if she wasn´t brave and loyal and good Laurel Lance any longer. Why did she feel drawn towards this monster she had vowed to kill only a few minutes ago? And why did _he_ not simply kill _her_? It would have been so easy. She had been completely at his mercy. And what did he mean, saying he wanted to help her? And how had he known? Why the fuck did he understand her like no one else had? For weeks now she had supplanted the truth, even from herself, and had felt like a rudderless nutshell on a stormy ocean. Hearing him say those words, she felt full of fear and exhilaration and pain and relief.

"Shhhh."

It was only when he tugged her against his powerful frame that she realized, that she had started shaking thoroughly, sobs tearing from her throat. She could not stop it. She felt save and understood and even valued in a way she had never felt before. She gave herself over to the despair and sadness. She gave herself over to his comforting embrace. She let herself fall into him, her senses taking in his smell, the heat of his skin, the sound of his beating heart and the soothing lilt of his voice as he whispered reassurances.

He let her work through her suffering, just as he had promised. She did not know how long they had remained in this position. Slowly, achingly she released the pent up energy, the hate, the fear and the sadness until only a void existed inside of her. The shaking stopped and her tears subsided. Merlyn loosened his hold on her and angled her head towards him with a demanding finger under her chin. Once again, their eyes met.

"I want to show you something."

Like a puppet she let him guide her towards the large window panels, her hands still bound behind her, the silky belt around her throat constantly tightening and loosening with each of her steps. His right hand on her left shoulder made her step closer to the glass. Then he moved behind her. He let her adjust to their closeness for a moment. Then he addressed her again.

"Look into the glass, Laurel."

She shook her head, not wanting to see what she had become. Without warning he tugged on the belt, making her gag.

"Look", he hissed.

She saw her reflection in the window, the twilight highlighting her sharp features and at the same time caressing her silhouette. Her legs were positioned slightly apart. Her breasts were clearly accentuated through the thick material of the sweater by the way her hands were bound behind her. As for her face.

Gods, the longing she saw there, so raw and desperate.

And behind her, Malcolm Merlyn, his sky blue eyes fixed on her with a dark heat she had not seen before. He stood behind her, completely relaxed and at peace with himself. He exuded an aura of absolute confidence and purpose. And danger. He knew what he was and he was not ashamed of it. He had accepted who he had become and Laurel needed him to show her how. She needed him to show her how to patch up her broken soul again.

Once again she swallowed visibly and her heart beat accelerated. Her pupils dilated and her lips fell open of their own accord to allow her breath to flow in and out of her mouth in constantly faster succession. Her voice was raspy and deep when she said one word she had never expected herself to say to him with such hopeful need.

"Please."

The change in him was immediate. When she had seen dark heat in his eyes before, they were now burning with unbridled passion. He allowed a small throaty moan to escape his mouth. With inhuman speed he flicked his wrist, a small dagger appearing in his hand and sliding along her throat without breaking skin.

This time, it was Laurel who could not contain the moan that left her throat. Yes, that was what she needed, that was what she needed to feel again, to heal again. Unconsciously she rubbed her legs together as heat began to pulse through her. She felt herself becoming wet for him.

Gods, she needed that man. Now.

"Patience, my sweet."

Had she spoken out loud?

The dagger still rested against her tender skin, while his other hand caressed her arm and shoulder.

"So beautiful."

His hand moved to her front and opened the zip of her hoody.

"So lost."

He tugged down the material, until it pooled around her bound wrists.

"Hmmm", he hummed as he bent down and lightly captured the left side of her neck between his teeth. His teeth on one side, the dagger at the other – he could kill her with either and yet Laurel felt herself eagerly pushing herself against them.

"You taste good, my dear."

She miscalculated the pressure and she felt the dagger slicing her skin. Her hiss alerted him to it and he withdrew the knife. In one swift movement he whirled her around and crashed her against the glass. Triumphantly she realized that his breathing had grown more rapid, as well. He leaned into her, his tongue licking a burning path from her hurt cheekbone to her left ear.

"Such a twisted girl you are, Miss Lance, playing with fire and coveting danger. Ah, but don´t fear, I shall provide."

Tugging at her braid more viciously this time he bared her throat to him and sucked at the small wound on her neck, his other hand lifting her left leg and he pushed his hardening cock against her core. The way she was angled, with her head leaning against the glass, he had full access and she nearly mewled from the pleasure he was eliciting without having truly touched her where she needed him to, yet.

"Please."

He paused in his ministrations to her throat, but kept her leg firmly wrapped around his waist. He blew on the wet area his mouth had just deserted, sending shivers down her spine. Then he spoke against her lips, his breath smelling of toothpaste and blood.

"Please, what?"

"I want to touch you."

"Mmm", he brushed his lips against hers, "no, not yet." He kissed her. "Later."

She eagerly responded to his lips against hers, deepening the kiss, demanding entrance. She did not care that she tasted her own blood on his tongue. She needed to give and take actively, as well. He let her dictate the kiss, allowing her tongue to explore him and taste him, only accentuating their joined pleasure by resuming rubbing leisurely against her. Her hips jerked forward to meet him with each stroke. When the pressure became unbearable she let her head fall back against the glass, a frustrated groan escaping her. She was sure her panties and sweat pants were soaked with her juices at this point.

He chuckled. "You need to come, don´t you?"

She lazily looked at him, her eye-lids heavy with arousal. She nodded.

"Well, then."

Another flick of his wrist and the dagger reappeared in his hand. Obviously he was as talented with his left hand as he was with the right still holding onto her leg. He smiled at her devilishly, clearly enjoying the way she needed him. Without taking his eyes off of her, he stroked the dagger blade along her cheek, down to her chin, along her throat and between her breasts. Her breath caught in her throat. He knew exactly how to turn her on. With a self-satisfied smirk he proceeded to cut open the sports bra she was wearing. She longed for his touch, her nipples already straining against the material. When he reached the elastic band he turned the knife downward and with one slicing motion he freed her breasts from their restraint. Laurel closed her eyes and pushed up her chest, every fiber of her being desperate for him to touch her there.

When he did not immediately oblige, she angrily looked at him. Further aggravating her he stepped back, releasing his hold on her leg. Loosing that contact, too, nearly made her scream in frustration. But then she saw him looking at her with hunger. His greedy gaze assessed her with no hint of embarrassment and Laurel finally understood that he wanted her as much as she did him. A heady feeling of power returned to her and she lifted her chin triumphantly.

He chuckled again. "Come."

Without the slightest hesitation she followed him to the leather sofas in the middle of the room. He shrugged out of his bath robe now wearing only the thin pajama trousers. His back was to her and she was very tempted to run her hands all over the smooth muscles. She appreciatively clicked her tongue which earned her another chuckle.

It was funny how at ease she felt, considering the fact that she was still very much restrained by the belt and that she was currently making out with an accomplished assassin. She did not allow this thought to linger, however, as she had other priorities at the moment. She needed to come. And he had promised to make her.

He sat down on the sofa facing her, his arms resting on the back. He simply looked at her raising his eyebrows in both invitation and challenge. Laurel immediately knew what his intention was. Her body demanded to indulge him, morals be damned. So she awkwardly stepped onto the sofa, her feet on both sides of his legs, and lowered herself onto his lap. Just like before he reacted as soon as she had initiated the contact.

His left arm came around her waist as he kept her in place while grinding his erection against her once again. At the same time his right hand took hold of the belt and tugged. This way her breasts were on perfect display for him to do with as he pleased and the tightening on her windpipe added a further dark thrill. Laurel closed her eyes and gave herself over to the pleasure that further spread throughout her body. The cock against her drenched folds and the pressure against her throat made her quiver with need. She was close, so close. She had never needed release as much as she needed it now. Silently begging him to take her over that edge she rocked her hips against his, matching him thrust for thrust. And then his lips closed around her left nipple and sucked, hard.

"Oh God", she gasped, nearly inaudible because of the limited air supply. "Please."

In answer to her pleading he bit down on her already sensitive nipple. The pain quickly changed into pleasure making her press herself into his wicked mouth. His wet tongue laved at the hurt bud soothingly, stimulating it further. Every contact of his hot breath on her skin sent jolts of pleasure to her moist opening. Without warning his lips closed around the other nipple, while he pinched the abandoned one between two fingers. Laurel felt herself climbing higher and higher, her body taut with need and unfulfilled rapture.

"Hmm, you´re so close."

"Please."

He cut off her breathing completely, his hips never missing a single gyrating thrust against her center. And Laurel blew apart, delicious waves of bliss flowing through her belly, every muscle in her body quivering with the force of her release.

"That´s it, Laurel, let go."

Stars started to dance before her eyes. He still had not eased his hold on her throat.

"Feel the aftershocks, feel how alive you truly are."

His hypnotic voice and the lack of air catapulted her into a mental state of acute awareness. She felt every little contraction of her vaginal muscles and heard the blood rush through her veins. She felt his hard length twitch against her temporarily sated sex. And she felt wild and free and at peace.

"Very good, and now, come back to me."

And the pressure on her windpipe stopped. Only when she sank against him and drew her arms around his neck did she realize that he had removed the belt and the garments and had used his hand to apply just the right amount of pressure on her throat.

"Hmm", she sighed, her nose burrowed into the side of his neck. Her breasts were nestled against him and her hand played with the hair on his neck. Her rapid breathing provided a sweet counterpoint to the steady rhythm of his chest rising and falling. He radiated warmth and strength and she allowed those feelings to seep into her. Slowly her breathing mirrored his. And for some time she simply sat on top of him, breathing with him. No word was spoken between them. When she had fully come down from her high his hand unexpectedly stroked down her spine. She tensed at the intimate and affectionate gesture. The change in her posture did not go unnoticed, and neither did the hand frozen in his hair. She felt the vibrations against her skin as he silently laughed.

"Having second thoughts, _Miss Lance_?"

Laurel sat up and narrowed her eyes at him.

"Is it that you have just allowed a murderer to grant you relief or is it the fact that you have just realized you´ve come for your dead ex-boyfriend´s father?"

In the post-orgasm haze she made a rather half-hearted attempt to slap him. He caught her hand mid-way to his face, smiling at her in that superior way.

"Pathetic."

She glared at him and pushed herself off his lap.

"How dare you."

He did not move. He simply raised an eyebrow and waited.

"You really are quite in love with yourself, aren´t you?" she hurled at him.

A serious expression settled on his face and, if she was not mistaken, he even seemed to be offended, of all things.

"Do you really think so?"

Laurel did not know what to make of his strange behavior. She had expected him to deny it or claim that he had every reason to think highly of himself. The way he looked at her now, however, like he really cared about her answer - . Feeling exposed suddenly, she glanced at the bath robe lying on the small couch table situated between the sofas.

He waved his permission without her having to ask and she wrapped the silky material around herself, sans belt, of course. It smelt like him, calming and electrifying at the same time. It was strange how controlled he was. In addition, he also was very passionate and thoughtful and deep. In a way, that made him even more dangerous. He was absolutely sure of himself and his justifications. His most threatening quality, however, was, that he was empathic. At least, he saw right through _her._

How could he sit there calmly while his still prominent arousal tented his trousers asking such a question? Opposed to his aloofness Laurel still felt itchy and needy and, to be honest, frustrated. She did not want to understand him, she wanted to fuck him. And kill him. Why had he not simply proceeded with getting her completely naked and shagging the daylights out of her? First the mocking, now this idiotic question? Had she really offended him that much with her rejection?

"It does pose a difficulty, doesn´t it? Seeing me as a human being?"

He did not seem to be overly surprised when she chose to keep silent, neither denying nor confirming. She let her gaze wander to the great windows and watched as shadows danced across the floor.

"However, what is truly frightening you, is facing your own demons. What does it say about you that all you can think of at the moment is how good my cock would feel inside of you? What sort of person are you that you want to objectify me so much, so it might be easier for you to use me?"

She snorted bitterly and walked away from him. She stood facing the balcony, her arms crossed under her breasts.

"You don´t know me, at all."

He clucked his tongue in disapproval. She chose to ignore him and instead focused on the lights in the distance. Anything to quell the urge inside of her.

"I thought we were over the state of denial."

He was directly behind her and she felt the hairs on her neck stand at attention. She had never even heard him leave the sofa.

"Tell me, does your heart rate not accelerate when I am so close to you? Do your nipples not harden against the silk of my bath robe as I am speaking to you right now? Do your folds not drip with release and need and does your body not feel empty without my cock thrust up as deeply inside of you as possible?"

She shrugged nonchalantly, even though her quim pulsated with renewed arousal at his words.

"I never said I didn´t _want_ you. But I can still _hate_ you."

She was ripped off her feet and thrown to the floor in the blink of an eye. He kneeled over her, his body pinned her to the ground while his left hand forced her hands above her head. The bath robe pooled around her, leaving her chest uncovered. His eyes bore into hers, his mouth was only inches away from her face.

"Hate me all you want, little Laurel, but do not cheapen my faith in you by playing dumb."

"Get off of me, you perverted little –"

"Killer? Monster? Freak?"

"Choose any of them, if you must. Now, get off of me."

He growled and twisted her wrists in a painful angle.

"Ouch! You´re hurting me. Fuck you! Fuck you, Merlyn."

"I´m not interested in fucking a martyr, Laurel. I want to fuck a warrior."

"What? You twisted fucker, you´re not my therapist. I´ll hate you all I want, and if you want a warrior, fine, release me and I´ll show you."

"Fighting me does not make you a warrior, stupid girl."

"I´ll fucking kill you, Merlyn", she screeched.

He sighed.

"And do you believe you´ll feel better, afterwards? That the void inside you will vanish, just like that? That your darker needs will somehow evaporate? It´s not me you need to face, Laurel. But - it´s your decision."

In one fluent motion he let go of her and stood, once more, before the beautiful windows, his naked back to her. Laurel panted with fury. Malcolm Merlyn was going to die tonight. A feral grin appeared on her lips as her hand met the dagger tucked into the right pocket of the bath robe.

She flew at him, the dagger pointing right at his heart. The impact never came, however. Smoothly as a panther Merlyn danced to the side, one aimed push against her sending her crashing to the floor again. She did not feel any pain. She was so full of hate and guilt that she needed to draw blood, preferably his. Quickly pushing herself up again, she took aim and threw the knife at him. Just like before he elegantly flowed out of harm´s way, his calm demeanor provoking her into another attack.

This time, however, she had no weapon at her disposal. She went at him with her fists held high. Remembering her training she fell into the offensive position. This time he did not ignore her, but lifted his fists, too. Gods, she wanted to hurt him. He easily blocked her first two punches, but she did not relent. She kicked at him, whirling around him and trying to ram her stronger right fist into his abdomen. He responded with a volley of punches to her shoulder blade, her rip cage and her lower back that sent her crashing into the glass wall. With a scream of frustration she pushed herself away from it and threw her whole weight into her next launch. Growing more and more agitated she started to beat him with her fists, not even caring where they landed. His hands never missed their aim and she tasted blood on her tongue. Then she managed a direct hit to the side of his face, a triumphal and satisfied smile appearing on _her_ face. She danced back from him.

"I must disagree, Merlyn, I think I feel better now and I think I´ll feel even better once you´re dead."

"You´re whole body is alive and full of purpose?"

"You´re damn right."

"And you feel more powerful and at peace now that you´ve drawn blood?"

"Sure thing, Mister."

"Hmm."

"Stop whatever spiel you´re currently trying to play and fight, you coward."

"Well, what are you waiting for?"

He flashed his most condescending smile and opened his arms in invitation. Laurel did not hesitate one second and drove her fist right into his stomach. He staggered back, but did not lift a single finger in defense. She let her other fist crash into his lip, her inner avenger crowing as blood pooled from the resulting cut. His eyes never left hers. Laurel resented him for it. She did not want a connection. She wanted him to suffer.

With a thrill scream she clawed her hands into his chest and drove him backwards until his head hit the wall with a satisfying smack. Sweat ran down her temples as strike after strike hit his strong body. Still, he looked at her with agonizingly honest blue eyes. She needed to whack that look out of his face. Her slap left a red imprint on his freshly shaven cheek. It was not enough and Laurel dealt a hard blow to his right eyebrow, leaving another bleeding bruise on his chiseled features. Panting she stood before him, the salty sweat running into her eyes, her chest heaving from her efforts. Then she resumed pummeling him as hard as she could. Hit after hit landed on him as she worked herself into a rage. Finally slowing down from exhaustion she hissed at him.

"That what you want?"

He shook his head. "No, it´s what _you_ need _._ "

She slapped him again.

"Why don´t you fight back then?"

"Because I understand. You´re wrong, but I can understand. As I have told you before, we are alike."

"You´re a killer. You have killed my sister and you deserve everything I do to you."

"If you truly feel this way, go on. I won´t stop you."

"Good."

As fast as she could she ducked to the ground clasping the dagger she had thrown at him and drove it into him. Or at least she tried to as he quickly turned to the side thus guiding the dagger across his abdomen and into the wall. The impact of the knife hitting the wall nearly broke her wrist and Laurel screamed with pain, letting go immediately.

Tears streaming down her face she looked to her left. He had not moved away after avoiding her attack. Small rivulets of blood were running from the long gash across his belly. Bruises were forming on his skin where her fists had hit him. Her gaze wandered to his chest where her fingernails had marked him as she had driven him against the wall. His lips were swollen where she had opened the skin with the hand still visible on his cheek. Blood was smeared from his eyebrow and over his temple. And his eyes, his eyes still did not judge.

Once again sobs wanted to tear from her throat, but this time she denied herself. She had to stop crying and face what she had done. What she had done to him and what she had nearly done to herself.

Her eyes met his and this time she let him in, let his understanding reach her, let the connection grow in the irrationally companionable silence that fell between them. They stood locked in each other´s gaze for quite some time until he closed the distance between them and tugged a wayward strand of her hair behind her ear.

"My warrior", he whispered.

He lifted her chin and kissed her deeply. Laurel sighed into his mouth. She let him dictate the rhythm, her eyes closed. His lips worked calmly against hers, tasting and savoring. It was not a passionate kiss. It was an intimate kiss. When he finally stepped back she opened her eyes again and found him watching her with slight apprehension, quickly concealed again behind an indifferent façade.

She held out her hand.

"Come."

He cocked an eyebrow, but he laid his hand in hers and gestured for her to proceed with the other.

"Bathroom?"

"Upstairs."

"Will Thea be coming back soon?"

"Not before morning."

She tugged on his hand and led him up the stairs. When they reached the top he laid his hand at the small of her back and guided her towards the second door. They stepped into the room and he switched on the light.

She pointed at the toilet. "Sit down."

With an amused expression he followed her instructions.

"First aid kit?"

"Second drawer to your left."

She found it and upended the contents into one of the sinks. Disinfecting first.

"I´m sorry, this is going to hurt."

His snort brought a small bitter smile to her lips and a slight blush to her cheeks. Still, she was determined to see to the wounds she had inflicted upon him.

"Where is the disinfectant? Ah here. I think we should start with that."

His warm hand circled her wrist. His pointer finger tapped the back of her hand.

" _I_ think we should start with a shower."

"But you´re bleeding."

"It´ll stop soon enough."

He stood up and let his fingertip wander from her wrist, up her arm and into the hollow of her clavicle, downwards between her breasts and to the waistband of her sweat pants. He leaned forward and whispered into her ear.

"Off with your clothes."

His tongue darted out and licked over her pulse point. Then his lips closed on the skin and sucked. Laurel groaned and relaxed further under his seduction. His fingers hooked into the elastic band and slowly tugged the material down. A kiss against her throat and he followed the trousers down to her ankles, all the while bestowing small kisses on the newly revealed flesh. Kneeling before her he opened her shoelaces. Steadying herself on his shoulders she stepped out of the sneakers. Her pantie and the sweat pants were next.

He let his hands glide from her calves to her thighs. Then he cupped her derrière and squeezed heartily before mapping the contours of her rip cage and ghosting his thumbs along the swell of her breasts. His hands swooped over her shoulders and down her now bare back as he divested her of the too large bath robe, too.

Once again his lips found hers, this time demandingly and teasingly. His left hand held her head in place as his tongue sought entrance. He took his time exploring her mouth, making her moan and press her naked body against him. His answering moan went straight to her core and she pushed her hardened nipples against his chest, desperate for stimulation. He rocked his still clothes-covered erection against her and the sweet ache between her legs slowly started to burn again. His right hand massaged her rear pleasurably, alternating between the cheeks. This time Laurel allowed her fingers to take hold of the strands of hair on the nape of his neck.

Without pausing in his ministrations he walked her backwards towards the big shower stall. She twitched as her naked back came in contact with the cold tiles and pulled away from him.

"Too much on", she commented. "My turn."

She eagerly fumbled with the button of the pajama pants and to her delight his cock immediately sprang free. She smirked and closed her hand around the thick shaft and lightly squeezed. It felt perfect in her hand, long and hard and warm. Her thumb grazed the small slit on the mushroom head and she savored the ragged intake of breath issued from his throat. Still, he caught her hand and positioned it at his neck. One quick shove under her rear and her legs came around his waist. He stepped out of his trousers and opened the shower stall.

Hot water and steam started to pour from several big showerheads.

"Gods", she groaned with relish as the hot water streamed down her body. He sat her down and handed her a bottle of expensive looking shower gel and a sponge.

"Wash of the blood. You insisted on treating my wounds. I, however, want you in my bed, on your hands and knees and begging me to take you. So, make it quick."

Seemingly oblivious to the effect his words had on her constantly leaking pussy he matter-of-factly set about the task of removing her hairband and loosening her curls. Then he worked a thick lather into her hair and massaged it into her scalp. Once satisfied he pushed her under a stream of hot water. Then he made haste in washing the blood off his own body. Laurel realized she was still staring at him and was uselessly holding onto the shower gel and sponge. She hastily sprang into action and made short work of her own ablution. Then they left the shower stall and dried themselves with plush grey towels. As Laurel made to reach for a lotion he intercepted her hand.

"No, leave it. I want to smell your natural smell. Follow me."

Wrapped into the soft big towels they walked to the other end of the gallery and entered an elegant bedroom. It was decorated in dark colors and contrasting white and grey elements. The great double bed looked very inviting. She turned to him with a lascivious smile on her lips. In response his smile turned predatory and with one swift tug he divested her of her towel. His eyes grew even darker and he moistened his lips.

"On the bed, now."

Heading his earlier words and the promise that shone in his eyes she drew back the bedding and climbed onto the bed on her hands and knees. In anticipation her center was throbbing with the need to be filled and her fingers clawed into the bedspread. The shivers spreading from the small of her back to her neck told her that her animal instincts had caught on to his presence right behind her. Then she felt the dip of the mattress as he climbed onto the bed. She moaned, she could not help it, and arched her back in bliss. He had not even touched her, yet. Then again, the time for slow seduction was over, wasn´t it?

Without warning her parted her cheeks and burrowed his mouth in her sex. His tongue caressed her folds and swirled around the clitoris in a demanding, steady rhythm. Obviously, he agreed with her earlier assessment. He was rewarded with a new flow of her juices and a deep sigh. She unashamedly pushed back against him, his mouth working her into a frenzy. She was close to coming a second time when he stopped. She hissed in frustration and looked angrily at him over her shoulder. He just grinned wickedly and licked his lips.

"Not this time. I want to feel you pulse around my cock the next time you explode."

"What are you waiting for then?"

His gaze turned so heated that her channel started quivering in anticipation.

"You."

His voice had dropped to a husky whisper and his hands eagerly massaged her backside.

"Me?"

"Hmm." His fingers dipped between her folds and drew lazy circles over the already tight nub. "So wet for me."

"Gods, yes."

Two fingers pressed into her, seeking that special spot inside of her, while his thumb pressed against her swollen clitoris.

"Nggghh."

He slapped her ass, hard.

"Ah."

He leaned over her and pinched her nipple.

"Nggh."

His hand gripped the fleshy mound and squeezed it.

Laurel was so close. The hand at her breast, his fingers thrusting into her pussy, his thumb worrying her nub, she was not able to think straight any longer. But she knew she needed him, now, or die.

"Please, fuck me. Gods, I need you inside of me, now. Please."

And he acquiesced. He withdrew his fingers and entered her in one rough thrust.

"Gods."

His answering groan only furthered her arousal. She felt so heavenly full and stretched and she eagerly pushed herself against him. His hands had taken hold of her waist and he did not relent with the hard pace he had set for their encounter. He thrust into her, hard and deep, occasionally adding a swirl to his hips. And each time he hit against her cervix and that special spot and Laurel started to keen with pleasure.

"Yes, that´s it", he panted. "Come for me, my sweet, come."

"Yes, oh, gods, just a bit more, yes."

He gripped her hair and roughly pulled her up and against him, changing the angle his cock slammed into her. And her being became reduced to the tight ball of exhilaration inside of her. Her pussy clamped down on his cock and she screamed as her orgasm tore through her.

"Yes", he hissed as he continued thrusting into her as her inner walls contracted around his length. "So good." His hand went to her front and slid over her clitoris. "So tight." He quickened the pace. "Give me everything."

Laurel simply hang on, letting her body rejoice in his possession. She had never experienced such an intense orgasm. It was nearly too much, and yet, perfect. Her head lolled back onto his shoulder and he slowed his movements until a soothing rocking into her remained, keeping the fire stoked, but not burning. His mouth sought hers and she gave it to him with satisfied languor. Mimicking his cock, his tongue lazily stroked hers and his teeth lightly nipped at her lips.

"Mhhmm."

He withdrew his lips and tapped her shoulder. Then he slipped out of her eliciting a moue of disapproval from her.

"Lie down."

Laurel obeyed and turned over, her head resting on the pillow. She looked up at him through hooded eyes. He was still kneeling on the bed and her gaze wandered over him, his chiseled, masculine features, his broad and muscled chest, his lean body and his thick cock standing proudly at attention.

"You´re beautiful and you fucking well know it."

He smirked and climbed on top of her.

"Is that so?"

"Just admit it."

"Hmm."

His non-answer did not register with her as his head had lowered to her breasts and he had taken to sucking on her nipple again while his other hand pinched the other one or alternately massaged the whole fleshy mound. Her hands stroked up and down his shoulder blades and lower back and he hummed his approval against her breast. The constant stimulation was electrifying and Laurel felt her body responding with renewed heat. As he bit down on her areola her hips involuntarily jerked up against his and she gasped at the contact. Her hand at his neck guided his face to hers and their tongues met in a passionate fight, now that he had moved further up her body she could reach his rear and used this opportunity to her full advantage. She rotated her hips into his and kneaded the strong muscles of his buttocks with both of her hands. This way his cock slid enticingly through her folds, becoming wetter and wetter with her juices. As an added bonus the thick mushroom head stimulated her clit with each rotation.

He ended the kiss and looked down at her. She did not even bother to hide the lust in her eyes as she continued to rub against him. Her face was flushed and her heart beat fast and joyfully. He seemed content to let her have her way with him for the time being and simply watched her as she pleasured them both with her motions. It was satisfying to see that he, too, had a healthy glow to his skin now and that his breath came just that little bit faster.

When he smiled down at her she acknowledged just how right she had been with her earlier statement. He really was beautiful. His dark hair and his striking blue eyes, the elegant aristocratic nose, his finely sculpted cheekbones and his full lips. And yet she would not fool herself any longer. The knowledge that he was also powerful and dangerous added to his allure. She wanted that strength inside of her and her hip movements grew more demanding. He winked at her and started moving with her, adding to the friction.

"Hmmm", she sighed.

"You are insatiable, it seems. So wet again already."

"I want you."

"And I want you. Lay your right leg over my right shoulder."

She did as he asked. While her upper body still lay on the mattress her hip was now angled to the side and the right leg on his shoulder spread her wide open for him. This way he had access to every sensitive part of her, her clit begging for attention, her quim still leaking with her arousal, her ass ready to be hit.

"Hmm", he mused, "how utterly captivating."

He experimentally slapped her buttocks and seemed to be pleased with the result. He smiled at her darkly before repeating the motion with his left hand while simultaneously rubbing his thumb against her engorged clit.

"Fuck."

"Hmm, you like that."

He added two resounding slaps to her backside and entered three fingers into her needy channel. She groaned and started jerking her hips, matching his rhythm. He fastened his eyes on her breasts as they rocked up and down with each thrust of his fingers. Quite quickly she felt herself rising towards that inner precipice again, heat and lust coiling in her belly and wetness flowing from her freely. She arched her back of the mattress and accompanied each of his thrusts with higher and higher pitched wails of abandon.

"That´s good, feel it. Feel it."

"So good."

She was close to falling over the edge. Still, she craved more. His fingers were not enough any longer. She needed his hot and hard length to fill her to the hilt.

"Please", she begged.

Another slap to her backside. Pleasure shot through her.

"Please."

He withdrew his fingers and wickedly tweaked her swollen nub.

"Gods."

He laughed and teasingly let his cock slide through her folds without sinking into her as she so clearly desired.

"Damn it, Malcolm."

"My pleasure, Laurel."

He entered her with just the right amount of ferocity to make her scream out in pure bliss. He gave her every ounce of ruthlessness and passion and power he possessed, and she accepted every last bit of it as he drove himself into her again and again.

"Yes."

His right hand held unto her leg, her body bouncing from his powerful thrusts. He used his left to tease her clit. He rubbed her mercilessly and fucked her mercilessly and she felt like every last fiber of her being surged forward to where they were joined. She was so aroused that tears started to form in her eyes. She needed to feel free, she needed to explode and die and rise again from the ashes. The pressure became nearly unbearable.

"Harder, oh, please, harder."

He shifted her body, lifting her legs over both of his shoulders, hands in the hollow of her knees pressing down until her legs were nearly parallel to her upper body. And he spread her, so that his next thrusts hit the deepest spots inside of her. His breathing came rapidly now and he groaned deliciously as he plunged into her harder and faster than before. Like before Laurel had no chance but to let him do with her whatever he pleased as she soared higher and higher.

"Aaah."

"Yes", he hissed.

"God."

"Yes."

He started gyrating his hips whenever he hit home and Laurel thought she´d explode on the spot.

"Yes, there, exactly there, yes, more. More."

And he delivered as he fucked her with abandon, her head hitting the headboard with each powerful thrust.

"Good girl, let go."

His voice sounded so deep and lustful, that Laurel needed to hear him speak again.

"Malcolm."

"So beautiful, so strong. My warrior."

"Yes, gods, so close."

"I know, I know", he purred. "Look at me."

And through her haze she looked right into his lust-filled eyes as his thrusts became erratic and ferocious. His blue eyes burned with desire and his voice turned raspy with need.

"Come, Laurel, come with me."

Seeing his beautiful face in the throes of passion and knowing that she had brought this man so close to losing control was all it took for her to explode spectacularly around him, her walls milking his cock as her orgasm tore through her. One last thrust and he followed her, filling her to the brim as jet after jet of his hot cum squirted into her. His lusty cry accompanied the waves of aftershocks pulsing through her body. Her vaginal muscles contacted around him over and over again as she came slowly down from her high.

Without conscious thought she moved her legs from his shoulders and pulled him against her, his now semi-flaccid cock still buried inside of her. His face came to rest against her neck and his breath caressed the lobe of her ear. Their hearts were beating rapidly in their chests in lively harmony. Reveling in his warmth and smell she closed her eyes and listened to their heart beats slowly settling into a more sedate rhythm. After some time he made to move off her.

"No."

"Shhh."

He lay down beside her and covered them both with the bedding.

"Rest. Reality will come back, soon enough. Rest."

And she sank against him, her face rested on his chest as his arm came around her. For several minutes none of them spoke and it would have been easy to pretend that everything was as it should be and that she had found a man she could well and truly love. A small tear leaked from her eye as she realized that she would never let that happen. Deciding, for once, to postpone the inevitable, she snuggled against him and interlaced her hand with his. He did not interfere with her thoughts, but he lightly squeezed her hand.

In the end it was her bladder that forced her to return to reality. She kissed his hand without looking at him and quickly climbed out of bed.

"Um, bathroom", she said in way of parting. Then she hurried out of the room and into the bathroom. After she had closed the door tears started to roll down her cheeks afresh. She sat down and relieved herself, all the while crying as everything came crashing down.

"Oh God. Oh, God."

She flushed and looked around for her sweat pants and panties. Merlyn had thrown them on the floor next to the shower. Oh, God, Merlyn. Quickly throwing on her clothes and shoes she remembered with a jolt that her hoody had remained downstairs and that he had cut her bra. A knock on the door made her whirl around.

"Laurel?"

"Yes?"

"I brought up your sweater and a sports bra from Thea. I´ll leave them by the door."

She heard him deposit the clothes before the door and walking down the stairs. She knew that this was deliberate, because she had not heard him moving around the loft, before. Quickly she opened the door and snatched the clothes off the floor. Even though the bra was a bit too tight for her it was definitely better than walking around with just a hoody on. Once she had slid that over her head she felt less exposed.

She took a deep breath and stepped out of the door. She would have to face him and she would do it with her chin held up high. Still, she felt apprehensive as she made her way down the steps and saw him standing in front of the sofas, waiting for her. He was wearing a black kimono and looked every inch the assassin and murderer she knew him to be. That certainly was no coincidence either.

He made no move towards her, just watched her carefully, his face once again a controlled and aloof mask. She cleared her throat.

"Mr. Merlyn."

"Miss Lance."

Her hand pushed down the handle and she was nearly through the door, when she turned around one last time.

"You never told me, if you have killed her."

"No, I didn´t."

She left the loft, unsure of what his ambiguous response meant, but keenly and achingly aware of an uncomfortable truth.

She owed him.

 **AN:**

 **YAY, I am so happy that I finished it. Over 10.000 words *clap, clap, clap***

 **BTW, I have now finished season 3, and gods, I can´t wait to start season 4 today .**

 **Please leave a review and tell me what you think** **Writing this piece took hours and hours for me, so please grace me with two minutes of your time. I really, really appreciate it.**


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